Dead End on a Hot Street
by GreyLiliy
Summary: Cleaner for the Decepticon Mafia, Deadlock meets fiery Hot Rod, son of the Police Chief. Deadlock is told to stay away, but he just can't help himself. (G1/IDW Mix, Deadlock/Hot Rod, Human AU)
1. Chapter 1

I was doing a plot bunny prompt meme, thing, and this particular one refused to leave me alone. It begged and pleaded and here it is. Be warned, it's a little self-indulgent, but hopefully that doesn't leak out too much. Either way, Enjoy!

Human AU. Taking Heavily from both the G1 Cartoon & IDW Verse. Expect a mix of characterization & characters.

* * *

"Rodimus Prime!" Ultra Magnus shouted up the stairwell of his brother's house. He heard a heavy thump above his head, and sighed deeply picturing the tangle of bed sheets and blankets on the dirty floor. He loved his nephew, he did, but this was getting absurd. He'd already done the laundry this week! Ultra Magnus shouted once more, "Get up this instant! You are going to be late for school!"

"Oh, relax. He's got a good ten minutes before his ride gets here," Kup laughed from the living room couch. The old man covered in wrinkles, and dull green hair sprinkled in grey, chewed on the edge of his unlit cigar as his co-worker fretted in the kitchen. "Kid'll make it. Just like he made it yesterday, and the day before that."

"'Make it' isn't good enough, Kup. If he really wants to join the force after he graduates, he must learn to be punctual," Magnus said, smoothing out his clean and pressed dark blue hair. He walked into the kitchen and picked up a wrapped turkey sandwich from the counter. Magnus put it in the paper back alongside the freshly sliced apple in its air-tight container and bottle of juice. "Self-reliance is a good thing."

"Which is why you re-packed the lunch he made last night all on his own," Kup said, raising an eyebrow. He pointed his cigar at Ultra Magnus. "You spoil that kid, and he's not even yours."

"He got points for effort, but I refuse to call what he packed 'lunch.'" Ultra Magnus said. A package of sugary cookies and a plain peanut butter sandwich wasn't enough for a growing teenager. What on earth were his brother and sister-in-law teaching him? "Making sure he doesn't expire due to poor nutrition isn't 'spoiling.'"

"Whatever you say," Kup laughed. He flipped through the channels on the old set in the living room, and settled on a fishing network. "But, I suppose you should spoil him while you can, Mags."  
Magnus regretted asking immediately as the words left his mouth, "And why is that?"

"Because that kid is never going to end up in your division with those stuck up prats Prowl and Chromedome." Kup tapped his cigar on the edge of the couch. "Enjoy seeing him while you can."

Magnus closed the top of the lunch bag, and creased the folded top with his finger. "Excuse me?"

"Coming through!" Hot Rod said, skipping down the stairs three at a time. He zipped through the kitchen and grabbed the lunch bag from his Uncle, at the same time that he snatched up his backpack from the floor. His sneakers pounded on the linoleum tile as he burst out the kitchen back door in a flash of red hair and an orange and yellow button shirt. "See you later, Uncle Magnus!"

"Be home on time!" Magnus called out the door, to no avail. The kid was long gone, but at least it looked like his shirt was tucked in. Magnus shook his head. "That boy has too much energy. He must get it from Elita."

"Which is why I was saying," Kup said, standing up from the couch. He brushed imaginary dirt off his sleeves and walked over to his ride to the station. "He's never going to be in your snooty little division. That boy's gonna' be one of my Wreckers. I guarantee it."

"We'll see," Ultra Magnus said. 'Hot Rod' would probably prefer being in Kup's group with Springer and Arcee. He certainly fit in better, but Magnus could hold out. He had plenty of time to see how that boy would surprise them all. "He is Optimus Prime's boy after all. He'll grow into that name of his before you know it."

"I'll take that bet," Kup said, popping his cigar back in his mouth. "Now, are we going or not? I appreciate the ride since my truck broke down, but you keep dawdling in the kitchen and we're the ones going to be late."

Magnus considered leaving the old man to his broken truck for a half-second.

* * *

"You're an idiot, you know that?" Turmoil said, smashing the edge of the chair leg. The limb shattered, spilling both the chair and it's restrained occupant to the floor. The whimpering druggie curled in on himself. The gag stuffed in his mouth and tied behind his head was soaked in drool, and wrapped tight. Turmoil propped his foot up on the seat of the overturned chair. "You had the nerve to attack one of my guys and try and steal the product you couldn't afford!"

The larger man walked around the incapacitated loser. He was bulk, and built like an ox. Little guys could be intimidating, but Turmoil liked to think he held his own towering over everyone. "Now, I like my loyal customers, but you caused a scene. You almost drew attention from those fine men in blue. I can't let that go, friend. Not even for every single last bit of your credits."

Turmoil turned around, and spotted his companion. He crooked a smile and shook his finger at the bored underling. "Now you, on the other hand, have been making me proud lately."

Deadlock straightened up from his slouch against the back wall at the compliment. Turmoil left the whimpering sap and headed toward his faithful second. He ruffled Deadlock's hair like a father would a kid, despite Deadlock being at least twenty-two.

Turmoil said, "You've really been pulling your weight lately. I think you deserve a treat for that, don't you?"

Deadlock shrugged, clearly fighting the smile tugging on his lips. His eyes had zeroed in and glued to the chair in the center of the room. "Yeah?"

"Two birds with one stone then," Turmoil put an arm around Deadlock's shoulder and motioned at the wide-eyed, gagged ex-customer. Turmoil leaned down the couple feet to whisper in Deadlock's ear.

"He's all yours. Have some fun."

"Thanks," Deadlock said, pulling his favorite pistol from his side holster. He pulled away from Deadlock's hulking form, his lithe form stepping into the floodlight. Deadlock shoved his foot into the gut of the bound man, and twisted his heel. "Don't mind if I do."

"Knew you'd like that," Turmoil said. He saluted Deadlock, left the warehouse room knowing the kid could take care of his own cleanup.

Efficiency was the best. Turmoil shook out his shoulders, and adjusted his heavy black coat. The midday sun beat down on his back, but Turmoil shrugged it off. He not only got rid of a troublesome client, but he made sure Deadlock had something to keep himself occupied. That guy got twitchy when he was low on work, and killing things was all he was good at. Leave Deadlock alone too much and he turned to the damn Boosters for his kick.

A shot rang out behind him, followed by blood-curdling screams and Turmoil sighed happily. Music to his ears.

* * *

Hot Rod-for the record, the only one who got away with calling him by his given name was Uncle Magnus-yawned as he hopped out of Blurr's car. His own maroon two-door was grounded until further notice due to an unfortunate incident with a speeding ticket and Springer. "Thanks for the ride, Blurr."

"No problem. See you later, later, later!" Blurr answered, pedal to the floor and the blue roadster around the end of the block before the third tick was spoken.

Now there was a guy who deserved a speeding ticket or two.

Hot Rod hefted his bag up on his shoulders and looked down Main Street. His home was about a mile away from downtown, but he needed a quick stop at the Sports and Tackle for a new lure. Kup was taking the "Wreckers" fishing this weekend, and he promised Hot Rod he could join in. Hot Rod grinned as he tapped down the sidewalk. Arcee would be there! Uncle Magnus wouldn't mind if Hot Rod was a few minutes late.

The tell-tale shake of an aerosol can stopped him in his tracks. Hot Rod backed up a few feet to look down the alley between the Shoe Store and the Jewelry Store. Down toward the back wall was a man about Hot Rod's height with white hair stripped wildly in black and red. It was dim, but Hot Rod could make out tan skin, jeans, and a black jacket with red and yellow accents. The stranger was spraying the brick wall.

Uncle Magnus hated graffiti.

Hot Rod looked around for an officer, but didn't see any around. Using the phone in the jewelry store to call Springer or Kup was an option, but it was just one guy and they had their hands full lately with that Decepticon group. Hot Rod could handle a little vandalism. The guy didn't look that touch. If worse came to worse, Hot Rod was second on the track team.

Hot Rod pulled his backpack strap tight as he entered the alley, shouting: "Hey!"

Deadlock paused mid-spray, and looked down to the opening of the alley. A kid an inch or two taller than himself with fiery red hair and-damn if those eyes weren't blue. A fierce one, like they should have been red and on fire. Handsome face, young though-high school maybe with the backpack-and an orange and yellow shirt. Deadlock almost laughed at the yellow and orange flames painted on the cuffs of the kid's blue jeans, but he was too busy appreciating the high cheekbones.

"Yeah?" Deadlock asked, flipping the can upside down in his hand. He still had a few meeting markers to finish up for Gasket's dealers-the favors you did for friends, but he could spare some time to play with a good looking kid like that. Even better if he was looking for one of Gasket's boys. Deadlock would be more than happy to send him in the right direction. "What can I do for you?"

"You can stop vandalizing the side of Mirage's jewelry store, for one thing," Hot Rod said, crossing his arms across his chest. The fresh purple paint glistened on the brick wall. He didn't recognize the symbol, but it was a face made up of triangles. Like a pointed version of the Police Badge Logo. "He's a big fan of artwork, but I don't think that's quite up his alley."

Deadlock whistled, flipping the can again. Not a customer, just a little police officer wanna be. That was shame. "Well someone's got a backbone. How old are you?"

"I should ask you that," Hot Rod said, bracing his feet apart. The stranger was relaxed, but he was giving Hot Rod a nasty feeling in his stomach. The stranger was oozing confidence, and his clothes were loose enough that Hot Rod got the impression he was carrying. This guy was dangerous, but Hot Rod's mouth had never listened to those instincts before. It wasn't going to start now. "Aren't you a little old to be vandalizing buildings? Thought that was middle school stuff."

"Everyone's got to embrace their inner child once in a while," Deadlock said. He finished off the Con Symbol with one last spritz, smirking at the frowning teenager glaring openly at the can. Tense, fingers twitching. Attractive. This was a fun one. Turmoil'd have Deadlock's head if he killed a civilian, but he almost couldn't help himself. "Just like little kids like to pretend to be adults."

Hot Rod stood his ground when the man threw his can in a duffle bag and slung it around his shoulder and over his back. Hot Rod looked away for a second, and the man was standing about an inch from him. Hot Rod jerked back, away from what was looking like a big mistake. The stranger was the one looking up to meet his eyes, but it was Hot Rod who felt tiny.

"So, got a name, Mr. Hero?" Deadlock asked. His stomach tightened deliciously at the kid's narrowed eyes. Hit a soft spot. Anger looked good on him. Deadlock shifted from foot to foot and slammed his hands in his pockets. Playing, not touching.

Hot Rod put his shoulders back and straightened up to give himself another inch. "You first."

"Deadlock," said man answered.

"Hot Rod," the teenager replied in kind. It was only fair, but Deadlock's wild red eyes lit up. Hot Rod should have kept walking when he saw the spray can. Gone to a phone and called Prowl or Uncle Magnus. Hot Rod swallowed. "And I think you need to back up a step."

"Why?" Deadlock asked. He saw the kid's-Hot Rod's-tremble down his thigh, and the clenched fist. Kid was nervous. He was wound tight like a wire. Deadlock bit his lip, licking the chapped surface. It'd be fine if he got Hot Rod to throw the first punch. Then it'd be okay. Deadlock leaned forward, his mouth within biting distance. "I think I like being right where I am."

"There a problem here?"

"Springer!" Hot Rod said, jumping back about a foot from Deadlock. He grabbed his backpack strap and put his back against the alley wall.

Deadlock looked between the two and cursed. The kid knew an officer by name? Well, that wasn't good. No wonder Hot Rod was the confrontational type. Probably mimicking a misguided hero. What a pain! Deadlock shrugged, looking as casual as possible. "No, no problem here, Officer. Just a friendly conversation."

"That's over," Springer said. He threw his thumb over his shoulder and puffed out his chest. "Beat it."

"Yes, sir," Deadlock said. He walked backwards out of the alleyway, keeping eye contact with a pair of lovely blue eyes. That one deserved more exploration. "See you later, Hot Rod."

"Yeah," Hot Rod grunted. Springer grabbed him by the arm, and Hot Rod decided that being a good samaritan was overrated. "Just perfect."


	2. Chapter 2

"What's got you in such a good mood?" Turmoil asked, squinting at his computer screen. Soundwave was going memo-happy again to all of the divisions, and he refused to use decent sized fonts. What sort of Mafia informant used size four font when it was already triple encrypted? Deadlock skipping into the hideout like he'd murdered a room full of school kids was not what he needed. That would mean more tiny-font memos. "I mean, I know you liked your treat earlier, but you're practically bouncing."

Deadlock spun a chair around next to Turmoil's and settled straddling the back. He dropped his elbows over the top, and grinned at his boss. "Met a guy."

Turmoil stopped typing. Last time Deadlock 'Met a guy' he ended up in six pieces with twenty bullet holes, and Turmoil had a mountain of cleanup. Turmoil curled his fingers into fists. "Yeah?"

"No fear, stubborn, in shape," Deadlock said as he ticked off the points on his fingers. He pictured fierce blue eyes and how close he'd gotten to a fight with him. That's how you really knew what a person had in them-how well they threw a punch. "Got a mouth on him, but I kinda' like it. I'm thinking potential recruit. He looked ready and itching to knock some heads in. Cleaners are like a skip away after that, and you've been looking for more help."

"Kid got a name?" Turmoil asked. If he impressed Deadlock enough to leave him alive, there was probably something worth looking into. Maybe not for Turmoil's team, as suggested, but he might throw the recruit Gasket's way. The old medic could use a few dealers who could defend themselves after yesterday's screw up.

"Yeah," Deadlock said, biting the edge of his lip. "Hot Rod."

"Red hair, few inches taller than you, cocky attitude, and a perchance for wearing clothes with flames painted on them?" Turmoil asked, rubbing between his eyes. Tiny-memos were about to become the least of his problems.

"You know him?" Deadlock asked, sitting up. "You try and recruit already?"

"Frag," Turmoil said. He pointed directly at Deadlock, and narrowed his eyes. "Stay away from that one."

"What?" Deadlock growled. "Why?"

"That's Prime's kid, you idiot."

* * *

"The son of Optimus Prime, the most decorated officer in the area and our Chief of Police. The son of Elita-One, one of the highest ranking and equally decorated members of our military. You, that son, find yourself a step away from a street fight with a hooligan!" Ultra Magnus shouted.

Hot Rod groaned, covering his eyes as he laid sprawled out on the couch. Kup was laughing at him in the kitchen over a cup of coffee, and Springer was doing his 'Disappointed in ya', Buddy' glare. At least Arcee wasn't here for this. Magnus had been ranting for a fully twenty minutes and he'd only now gotten to the 'parent' argument.

Hot Rod was grateful said parents were both out of town, or this would have been so much worse. Mom deployed, Dad out of town at an Officer's convention, and little Hot Rod stuck being watched by his Uncle. It could have been worse.

"I wasn't in a fight. There was no fight." Hot Rod tried, speaking under Magnus' tirade. He rolled over on the couch and sat up. Hot Rod repeated his story, hoping it would sink in. "The dude was drawing graffiti. I suggested he stop. We talked a little bit before Springer showed up. That's all that happened!"

"I don't know, Rod," Springer said, adjusting his cap. He was still decked out in his blues, though the top button and tie were undone, and leaning against the kitchen island. His hair was pulled back from his face, and his mouth was pursed in a frown. "That guy looked ready to jump you, and I know how your mouth gets away with you. If I hadn't shown up when I did, I bet I would have been pulling you two off each other."

"We weren't going to fight," Hot Rod said. He turned up and hung over the back of the couch. Uncle Magnus coughed when Hot Rod's shoe touched the couch cushion. He rolled his eyes and shoved his shoes off with his toes. "You were there, Spring! The guy was just in my face. It was all talk."

"It's never all talk with people like that!" Magnus said. Springer had detailed the suspect earlier, and he had 'Decepticon' written all over him. That mafia led to nothing but trouble. There was no way his nephew was getting involved with any of them for any reason. Magnus stared down at the boy. "And furthermore, what did you think you were doing? You should have called it in if you thought it was a real threat!"

"It was just one guy! I thought I could handle it!" Hot Rod said. He dropped back down into his seat.

"You are blowing this way out of proportion. Tell him, Springer!"

"I wouldn't go that far," Springer said. He tapped his foot on the ground. "If he was a high schooler, maybe. But he was at least in his twenties, and I think I've seen him hanging around some of Turmoil's boys. I think you would have been in way over your head if he decided to throw a punch, Rod."

"Fine, next time I'll call one of you guys," Hot Rod said, slumping down into the couch. The worst of it was Springer wasn't wrong. The jerk. Hot Rod ruffled his own hair in an aggravated scratch before slumping into the cushions. "Promise."

"Good," Ultra Magnus said. "You're still grounded for two days."

"What!"

* * *

"You almost picked a fight with Prime's kid!? Prime!" Gasket rubbed between his eyes. The older doctor turned chemist groaned into his hands. He'd saved that kid from the streets, but if he'd known he was going to turn out this stupid, he would have let him stay lost in his drug-induced fantasy land. Gasket smacked the boy upside the head. "Deadlock you moron! You know how territorial Megatron is when it comes to Prime!"

"How was I supposed to know! Hot Rod doesn't look anything like his old man!" Deadlock argued. He rubbed the back of his head, and pulled his leg up on the bar stool rung. "Or his mom, for that matter."

"Yeah, well no one touches that little fact with a ten foot stick whether you're a 'Con or a 'Bot." Gasket lit his Bunsen burner, and moved the vial full of his now famous blue liquid over top of the flame. The liquid inside heated slowly, changing the color from a blue to a light pink. "Change of subject, then. How's life with Turmoil lately? He's not hitting you any more is he?"

"Gasket, come on," Deadlock said. He rubbed his mouth with the corner of his thumb, right over the crown that replaced the broken tooth. Deadlock licked his lips. Hot Rod's teeth had been perfect. Deadlock shook his head. Gasket. He was talking with Gasket about Turmoil. "That was one time, and I had it coming. We both know that."

"Yeah, but he's as trigger happy as you are," Gasket said, his voice low. They were alone in his private office, but you never knew where Soundwave's ears were. Or when he felt it was in his interest to snitch. "So watch it."

"I know," Deadlock sighed, but his heart wasn't into heeding the warning. It was stuck somewhere else mourning a missed opportunity. Deadlock tapped the glass of a loose beaker.

They fell into a comfortable silence after that. The concoction on the burner bubbled, and steamed hissed out of the top of the glass. Deadlock curled his head up into his arms and sighed. He stared at the beaker, but it wasn't his usual fixation.

"You're moping," Gasket said.

"I can't get that kid out of my head!" Deadlock said, sitting up. Those angry blue eyes were eating at him. Deadlock wanted to see more. He wanted to see those teeth turn into a snarl and shove the kid's face into the pavement. "You should have seen him. He was all fire and, when he entered the ally I thought he wanted a hit. The goody-two-shoes thing doesn't suit it."

"Tell that to his parents," Gasket said. He pulled the vile off the burner and poured the hot liquid directly into a thin cylinder about the length of his palm. He screwed a cap on tight, and shook the vile roughly.

"Can you picture it though?" Deadlock said, eyes lighting up. He could see it all now. If he survived the fight-Deadlock'd really have someone to count on. He could feel it. Deadlock was dying for another Cleaner. "The Prime's kid a 'Con. A cleaner working for Turmoil! Wouldn't that make ol' Megatron happy?"

"Treading dangerous waters, Deadlock," Gasket said. He threw the cylinder at the punk kid-they were all kids to Gasket at this point-and leaned back. "Speaking of things I've warned you about, that's the only one you're getting from me this week. So you better ration."

"I know, I know," Deadlock rolled his eyes. He held the vial up to the light. It paid to be on the supplier's good side. This little vial was worth at least a grand's worth of product. "Lay off the Neural Boosters. I swear, it's the only thing you and Turmoil agree on."

"We also happen to agree on the Prime kid," Gasket said. He turned the Bunsen burner off with a violent twist. "Don't play with fire, kid."

"Yeah, yeah, you get burnt," Deadlock said. He licked his lip, and twirled Gasket's little gift in his hand.

* * *

It took three days stalking the local high school and spying on a certain red head for Deadlock to decide stalking Hot Rod was worth it.

Day two, in particular, because it was the day Deadlock discovered the kid was on the track team. He always came in second behind some speedy brat with whipped back robin egg hair, but Hot Rod could move. The kid was built to be a runner. Deadlock rubbed his fingers together. Screw the fighting. He'd be fun to chase.

It was day four, and Deadlock needed contact. Turmoil hadn't had a job for him since his 'gift' and Gasket had been serious about his single hit until next week. Since his first two go-to's for getting his mind off life, Deadlock needed a third option. Worse yet, he couldn't make up his mind with what he wanted to do with Hot Rod once he'd gotten the kid. He'd thought of a million scenarios from beating him up, killing him, to making out, and pulling jobs together. Deadlock needed more information.  
Hot Rod exited the school on the left side of the building, wearing his flame-painted jeans and a yellow tank top, exactly three minutes after the bell. He'd meet up with his track friend for a ride in two minutes. Deadlock started across the lot to intercept. If he caught him before the kid got to the friend and the car, he'd be set.

"Hey there, Hot Rod," Deadlock said. The teen's head whipped to the side so fast Deadlock thought it might come off. Deadlock walked over to the boy bolted in place with wide eyes. Surprise was the best way to go. "Fancy seeing you here."

"It's the high school, I go here," Hot Rod said. He sniffed, and glanced around at the kids pouring from the school building. This guy wouldn't be crazy enough to start something with so many students and teachers around, would he? "You're the one who doesn't belong."

"Guilty," Deadlock said.

Hot Rod took a careful step back, making his best to look casual. Deadlock somehow managed to look more crazed during the daylight than he did in that dark alley, and he couldn't tell if it was the bloodshot eyes or the smile. Hot Rod squeezed his backpack strap.

"So, anyway," Deadlock said, shrugging. He pointed over his shoulder to the white two-door with red stripes. "I was wondering if you wanted to go for a ride. I know a great little spot that has the best food you've ever eaten."

"No," Hot Rod said. 'In over his head,' Springer had said. Hot Rod could picture his next door neighbor's smug face already. He walked backward toward Blurr's car, keeping his eye on Deadlock. "And I've got my own ride home, thanks."

"Aw, don't be like that," Deadlock said. He followed Hot Rod, shrugging his shoulders. "I think you'll like it. And they never card, if you feel like sneaking a drink. High school kids still like that, don't they?"

Drift put his arm around Hot Rod's shoulder, and nearly shivered feeling the body heat. The kid was running hot like he had a fever and it felt- "Shit!"

Hot Rod breathed heavily, rubbing the raw knuckles of his fist. Deadlock hadn't gone down, but the punch had knocked him loose. Hot Rod backed up four or five feet and threw his arms up in case Deadlock retaliated. Students were staring at them, but none seemed keen on getting involved. Hot Rod snarled, "Don't touch me."

"Ow," Deadlock said, grinning. It'd be a long time since someone was able to get in a sucker punch. He hadn't even seen the fist fly! He rubbed the tender side of his nose. The kid had side-swiped his nose, missing the bone directly but still getting a good hit in. Deadlock was impressed. "Good shot."

"Stay away from me," Hot Rod said. He heard a honk behind him, and turned his head away quick to see Blurr waving. Hot Rod pointed at Deadlock, "I mean it. Don't you come near me again."

Deadlock grinned as the kid sprinted straight for the blue car. Screw Megatron, Turmoil, Gasket and Even Prime. This was worth it. Stay away? Hah. Deadlock laughed, "Not a chance, Hot Rod."


	3. Chapter 3

Deadlock was tired of waiting. He sort of got out of hand in this chapter. It's his fault.

**Chapter 3**

Blurr was missing.

Hot Rod dropped his backpack on the ground, the contents rattling around as they hit the grey concrete. The black top road was bare, and no sight of a familiar blue car. Hot Rod dug his phone out of his pocket, while checking for any stragglers who might give him a lift. The school yard had already cleared of most students, and Blurr was still no where to be seen. His speedy buddy was usually pretty good about giving him a ride to and from school while his car was locked down. Hot Rod flipped his screen on, and frowned at the text message blinking in the top corner from Blurr:

_Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. Something came up and I can't give you a ride. Catch you tomorrow!_

"Okay, then," Hot Rod said, turning off his phone screen. He supposed it was inevitable that Blurr would be busy one of these days. Well that was a bummer on a Friday. Not to mention it was the day his dad got back from his trip. Hot Rod yawned into his hand and shoved his phone into his pocket. "Guess I'm walking."

"I could give you a ride, you know," a voice whispered in Hot Rod's ear.

Hot Rod shivered. That guy had gotten ridiculously good at appearing out of nowhere. Hot Rod sniffed, and grabbed his bag. "What do you want, Deadlock?"

Since Hot Rod punched Deadlock in the face, he'd reappeared after school to ask Hot Rod if he wanted a ride every other day for the entire week. If he hadn't left every time Hot Rod said 'No' he would have probably said something about it to Uncle Magnus or Springer. But as it stood, Deadlock was just persistent. That wasn't a crime, to Hot Rod's regret. It wasn't even at the level of harassment just yet.

Hot Rod usually didn't have a problem getting away either: Blurr was his ticket to avoid the man. Shame his normal escape route was cut off today by whatever Blurr found as a better use of his time. Hot Rod glared over his shoulder at his wannabe stalker. Deadlock stood with his hands in his pockets smiling innocently while waiting for Hot Rod's inevitable answer.

"It's really no problem," Deadlock said, tilting his head up. Hot Rod would never get used to the fact he was taller than this guy. Because he sure didn't feel that way. The way Deadlock kept his eyes glued on Hot Rod didn't help either. It made Hot Rod's stomach churn like it was trying to process one of Kup's home remedies. Deadlock motioned to his car, smiling wider. "My ride's pretty fast and we could stop anywhere you want on the way."

Hot Rod needed another escape. But who could he get? _Uncle Magnus?_ No. Hot Rod couldn't call him. He was at the air port waiting to pick up Dad. Springer was on duty and couldn't take off. Arcee would be with Springer. _Kup? No! He went with Magnus to get dad!_

Hot Rod cursed and tried to pretend that Deadlock's smile wasn't widening by the second as he sensed the teenager's moment of weakness.

* * *

Deadlock licked his teeth. Hot Rod was running out of options and things were looking better and better for a certain Cleaner. This was better than when that stupid rival gang who had moved in on Gasket's turf ran out of ammunition in a fire fight. Deadlock couldn't believe his luck. In his stalk-research, he'd discovered Hot Rod didn't have many friends. He had that Blurr kid, and that was it. All the rest of the folks he hung out with were either related-Ultra Magnus-or worked with his Dad: Kup, Springer, and Arcee.

After that, he was pretty much all alone. Deadlock could relate to that.

"You don't really want to walk all the way home, do you?" Deadlock tried. He needed this. He'd spent too much time watching, and not enough alone. That one on one contact was essential for figuring out the kid and what Deadlock wanted to do to him. Hot Rod took up so much of his spare thoughts, it was only fair. "I just want to get to know you. Is that really so wrong?"

"It is when you're like eight years older than me," Hot Rod said, raising an eyebrow.

"Five."

"What?" Hot Rod asked, eyes widening. Off guard. Good.

"You're seventeen, right?" Deadlock said. He held his hand out, and jingled his keys back and forth. A reminder that the ride option was still open. "I'm only twenty-two. That's not that big of a gap."

"I guess not," Hot Rod said. He slung his backpack over his shoulder and started to back away. Just like the days before. Hot Rod shook his head. "But I'm still not going anywhere with you."

"Oh, come on. I think you're interesting, and I just know we have a lot in common," Deadlock said. Hot Rod kept backing away, and Deadlock couldn't help the pout. Those blue eyes were glaring at him, and for once it wasn't appreciated. He needed the kid in his damn car! "What's one ride going to hurt?"

"I'm the son of the police chief," Hot Rod said. He had the nerve to lick his lips. "I can name at least twenty reasons why getting into a car with you is a bad idea even if you are just some punk who likes to graffiti walls."

"Right," Deadlock said.

Hot Rod grabbed his bag and backed away toward the road he needed to follow to get home.

Deadlock looked both ways, like one would if they were crossing a street. The second Hot Rod turned his eyes away from Deadlock to check for traffic, the Cleaner slammed his elbow into the back of the kid's neck, dropping him like a rock.

* * *

"How have things been at home with Hot Rod," Optimus asked as he dropped his bags in the back of his brother's large blue SUV. Kup was asleep in the back seat with his hat over his eyes and snoring away. Optimus was happy his cigar was at least unlit as hit hung loose on his chest. His Truck must still be broken. Optimus closed the back of the car door. "I know you weren't exactly looking forward to house sitting when I left."

"Aside from his inability to wake up on his own in the morning," Magnus said, "I think it's been fine. No real arguments, and he's behaved himself."

"The kitchen table is still in one piece?" Optimus asked, trying not to laugh when Mangus glared at him. His older brother was never all that good with jokes.

"Yes, and all the chairs, too." Magnus said. He rolled his eyes, and wiped his hands off on a clean towelette. "Your living room furniture is in one piece."

"Good to know," Optimus said. He adjusted his bandana, the tip of which was resting on his nose, and reached around his neck to re-tie the knot. "I want to claim I wasn't worried about the two of you, but you know how it goes."

"You can rest assured, the worst incident that occurred while you were gone was Hot Rod playing police officer before his time."

"Oh?" Optimus asked.

"He ran across someone vandalizing a jewelry story and took it upon himself to ask the man to stop." Ultra Magnus opened the passenger door for his brother. Optimus hopped into the seat, and Magnus went around to the driver's side. He opened the door, and saw Optimus's narrowed eyes at the cut off story. In his seat, Ultra Magnus finished, "Well meaning, but unwise. He's lucky Springer walked by on patrol and split the two up before a fight could break loose."

"He's always been hot headed. Hot Rod always leaps before he looks, no matter what he intends." Optimus said. He rubbed his mouth through his bandana. He didn't need photographs to see Hot Rod standing up to someone and letting his mouth get away with him without thinking. "I wonder where he gets it."

"When you figure it out, let me know," Ultra Magnus said. "I'd like to put them on traffic duty for a week."

Optimus chuckled. "Fair enough, but for now-I'd just like to see him. It's been a long week away from home."

"I couldn't agree more."

* * *

Deadlock had Hot Rod in the car. He was in the trunk, but that still counted as in the car.

Deadlock may have been taking things a little too quickly with this whole Hot Rod thing.

He slammed on the breaks as he drifted into the side corner of his favorite empty lot. Far away from Turmoil's place, and no where near Gasket. It was a safe place where he could shoot targets, or practice drifting across the dirt when he was stressed, or pick apart dead bodies when he was bored. Home away from home. Deadlock lifted his parking break and kicked his door open.

All it was missing was a shed or a house or hut or something for when it rained.

Deadlock popped open the back trunk of his car, and looked around. He had an empty lot surrounded by trees and no lighting. It was good enough.

He pulled Hot Rod out of the trunk, and tried not to get too excited holding the limp and warm body in his arms. Holding Hot Rod felt like carrying raw fire. Deadlock's arms were burning and it was spreading to every limb in his body. He needed to wake the kid up and get his head straight. Deadlock needed a good story. And an apology. He needed Hot Rod to not want to call the police on him. Or die. Deadlock wasn't exactly thinking clearly right now and cooperation was in everyone's best interest.

Deadlock lifted Hot Rod bridal style and walked over to an outdoor set of lawn furniture he'd set up for when he wanted to take a break. He plopped Hot Rod in a chair and dragged another one over across from him. The air was warm, and the sun was still in the sky, but it'd be gone in another or so. Time was getting away from him.

The Cleaner leaned over and shook Hot Rod. "Wake up."

When Hot Rod didn't sir, Deadlock slapped the kid. "WAKE UP!"

* * *

Hot Rod jerked awake, his hand cradling the stinging pain across his cheek. He rubbed the tender flesh, and was reminded of that one time Springer decked him. "Ow."

"You're awake! Good." Deadlock said, sitting far too close to Hot Rod's person. There was loose gravel under his feet, and he was sitting in a hideous white chair with red stripes that looked like it'd been painted to match Deadlock's ride. Hot Rod ground his teeth together when Deadlock leaned in again and said, "I'm sorry."

"What?" Hot Rod asked.

"I'm sorry," Deadlock wrung his hands together. He jerked his foot up and down, and looked around nervously. "For hitting you. And panicking."

Two and two came together much faster than Hot Rod would have liked.

Hot Rod had been kidnapped. He was in an abandoned field with a madman and he had been kidnapped. Hot Rod figured it might happen sooner or later in his life, concerning who his dad and mom were and all, but he hadn't been predicting this. Hot Rod looked around the empty yard, and nearly said the wrong thing when he spotted shell casings. Instead, he settled on a much safer, "Where am I?"

Deadlock hummed happily. "Do you believe in infatuation at first sight?"

"Huh?" Hot Rod asked. He looked around, and checked for exists. This guy was _nuts_ and Hot Rod might actually need to make a run for it. Deadlock rubbed the inside of his palm with his thumb, and bit his lip. His eyes were wide, and Hot Rod swallowed. "Are...are you on something? Because you're looking a little burned out."

Deadlock rolled his eyes and huffed, like he'd been accused of being on boosters a million times before. Hot Rod asked the wrong question. Deadlock leaned forward. "Yes or no? Do you believe in infatuation at first sight? Not love, infatuation. Curiosity. Ever met someone and they just take over your head?"

"No," Hot Rod said. Technically Springer would have qualified if his Dad's stories were any indication, but he didn't want to give Deadlock a single bit of legitimacy to his madness. So Hot Rod lied. "Can't say that I have."

"I did," Deadlock said. He crawled over the space between them, pinning Hot Rod to the chair without touching him. "With you, I mean. Moment we met in the alley way, I knew, that we had a connection. I just can't figure out if I want to break your face or make-ma-mall, go hang out at the mall. I think with enough time getting to know each other, I can figure that out"

Hot Rod leaned away from Deadlock. There was something wrong with this man. "I think right now, I just want to go home."

Deadlock pouted, and bit the edge of his lip. "And we could hang out later?"

"Sure," Hot Rod said. _Fat chance._ "Yeah, but I've got to get home or my Uncle is going to wonder where I am."

"I think you're just telling me what I want to hear."

_No shit,_ Hot Rod thought. This was getting ridiculous. Hot Rod wanted to go home, and that Deadlock guy needed to back off. Now.

Hot Rod slid down in his seat, and pulled his leg up to smash his foot into Deadlock's chest. The man grunted, and let go of the chair's arm. Hot Rod snaked around and under Deadlock's arm, stumbling onto his hands and knees as he scrambled across the loose gravel. He made it two feet before Deadlock tackled his side, shoving his cheek into the rocks and overturning the lawn chair.

Deadlock pulled the boy into a make-shift stepover facelock, trapping Hot Rod's ankle between his thighs, and held Hot Rod's arm against his back, instead of grabbing him around the neck. His other hand shoved Hot Rod's face into the ground.

The two breathed heavily, Hot Rod unable to buck Deadlock off him. The madman snarled, and pulled on Hot Rod's hair.

"Don't, don't do that again," Deadlock growled in Hot Rod's ear. His voice was deeper. It sounded like a razor slicing through something. Dangerous. Hot Rod breathed harder when Deadlock wrung his hair and pulled tighter. "Do you understand me?"

"Screw you," Hot Rod said, pulling at his arm. "Get off me!"

"Fine," Deadlock sighed. Hot Rod couldn't see him, but he could hear the exhale, and the settled weight. Deadlock shifted, and Hot Rod's head was freed. It didn't do him any good, though, as Deadlock still had a grip on his arm. "We'll do this the hard way."

Hot Rod mouth snapped shut when he felt the metal barrel of a gun press into the back of his head.


	4. Chapter 4

And we continue on. *smacks Deadlock/Drift upside the head* You're hard to write for, buddy.

**Chapter 4**

"Hot Rod? You here?" Optimus asked, dropping his duffle on the floor next to the door. He had braced himself for impact after ringing the doorbell, but he entered his home without the tackle hug he was expecting. Instead, the house was quiet-and that was never a good sign when Hot Rod was at home. His son didn't know the meaning of the word 'Quiet.' Optimus rubbed the side of his cheek under the bandana. "He knew I was coming home today, right Magnus?"

"Of course," Magnus answered. He placed the rest of Optimus' bags inside the room, and closed the front door. Magnus checked his watch, frowning deeply at the dial. Magnus looked at his brother. "He said he'd be home early from school to greet you."

"Hot Rod!" Optimus called a little louder up the stairs. He leaned on the railing, and listened for a thump on the ground, or some sort of music playing-but he heard nothing. So, Hot Rod hadn't taken a nap waiting, and he wasn't listening to anything. Optimus yelled up the stairs again, just in case: "Are you home?"

"Where on earth is that boy," Ultra Magnus said. He pulled down the blinds, and spotted his car still in place in the drive. So he hadn't taken that out. Was he perhaps with Blurr? Magnus shook his head. "He should be here."

"I'll call him," Optimus said, not wanting to waste any more time discussing where his wayward son was or was not. He opened his phone and dialed.

* * *

The harsh ringtone blared from Hot Rod's pocket, shocking them both. Deadlock darted his eyes to the playing music and the slight buzz from the phone's vibrate option. It was the police officer's anthem, and it dragged Deadlock out of his angry daze. The gun felt ten times heavier in his hand and he pulled it away from the soft red hair. He looked at it and his hand, as if one or both was possessed.

"Ah, what am I doing?" Deadlock asked himself. He got off Hot Rod and wandered a few feet away. He shoved his gun back in his holster and shook his head. Deadlock was confused. Did he want to hurt Hot Rod or didn't he? What made him go for the permanent option first? Deadlock shook his head, burying his hand in his hair. "Why do I always go there?"

Hot Rod didn't move. The weight was gone, and his phone was still blaring loudly, but he couldn't see behind him. He didn't know if Deadlock still had that gun pointed at him or not. Hot Rod turned his head shakily to the side, fingers sliding across the dirt. The other man sat in the dirt, facing away from Hot Rod. Deadlock's shoulders dropped and back was wide open. Hot Rod swallowed, and slowly moved up.

"Sorry," Deadlock said, not turning to face Hot Rod. He rubbed his face, and scratched the side of his thigh with the barrel of his gun. "Sorry, I didn't mean that. I just. You make it hard to think."

Hot Rod didn't answer. Deadlock sounded more like he was talking to himself as it was, so an actual answer might not be the best idea. He slowly shifted until he was on his feet. His phone had gone silent, but that was the least of his worries. Hot Rod stood up, and placed one foot behind him, ready to turn and run. Where? He hadn't a clue. But he was positive he'd find a landmark or something once he got off the road.

Hot Rod's phone rang again, but this time he slammed down his finger on the 'Goodbye' button to cancel the call. He didn't catch the name of the caller, but who knew what would set off his captor in the state he was in?

Deadlock moved, stilling Hot Rod. He dug through his pockets and pulled out a jingling set of keys. Deadlock rolled them over in his hand, and turned just enough to throw them at Hot Rod. The kid caught them, and looked down at the small set.

"Your back pack is in the trunk," Deadlock said. His voice was as monotone as he felt. He screwed up. Deadlock screwed up big time. With Hot Rod, and later Turmoil. And Gasket. He'd be so disappointed. Deadlock, sucked in a breath to steady himself. He leaned over, hugging himself. "You can use the car to drive home, since you probably don't want me to give you a lift back."

Hot Rod clenched the keys in his hand. There was something wrong with this man. But unlike before, Hot Rod didn't feel scared. He felt something else digging at his gut. Hot Rod shook his head. _What was going on?_

"When you leave the lot, take a left and drive about ten minutes. Then take a right, and that road'll drop you off near Maccadam's. I think you can find town from there," Deadlock said. He pulled at a loose piece of red hair buried in his white bangs, and tugged on it. "You can just leave my car at the end of the street or something."

Hot Rod slowly walked a wide circle around the sitting Deadlock. He kept his eyes on the depressed man, inching toward the car. He wasn't going to turn down a ride if he could help it. But. Hot Rod looked around the empty field, and the defeated looking kidnapper. Hot Rod licked his lips, and asked against his better judgement: "Do you have a ride back?"

Deadlock shrugged. He didn't, because there was no way he was calling Turmoil or Gasket for a ride. But that was maybe for the better. The walk might do him some good. Help clear his head of red hair and bright blue eyes. He'd taken the kid out here to get to know him better, and he'd shoved a gun barrel into his hair. Maybe this was why Turmoil and Gasket discouraged him having friends. Deadlock smiled weakly, "I'll be okay."

Hot Rod looked between the man and the car, biting his lip. Deadlock had harassed him, kidnapped him, and then put a gun to his head. But, Hot Rod thought, he looked so wretchedly lonely sitting in the dirt. He was like a kicked puppy.

Maybe all this crazy guy wanted really was a friend.

The teenager bit his lip, whatever the case, he couldn't leave the guy here all alone. Not looking like that and with a gun, anyway. Who knows what he'd do.

"If you leave the gun here," Hot Rod began, standing on the other side of the car. It was his shield between the two just in case. He sucked in a breath and did the stupidest thing he'd done all week, though he couldn't shake the feeling it was the right thing to do: "I'll drive you back."

Deadlock looked over his shoulder, eyes wide. "Huh?"

Hot Rod asked, "Do you want a ride back or not?"

"Yes," Deadlock said, a flicker of hope dancing in his chest like a spark. He Slipped off his gun harness and walked over to the furniture. He shoved it under the low lawn chair and walked over to the car. He looked Hot Rod in the eye, and sucked in a breath. "Thank you."

They both knew those words weren't in regards to the ride.

Deadlock opened the car door and sat down, putting his hands in his lap. Hot Rod waited a full minute, his heart beating loudly enough for Deadlock to hear it. The boy opened the door and slid into the black leather seat, sitting next to his stalker and now kidnapper. Deadlock didn't move an inch, or say anything as Hot Rod put the keys in the ignition and twisted. The car roared to life, and his trembling hand grasped the stick.

They drove for a good five minutes before Hot Rod broke the silence. "You always kidnap people you want to get to know?"

"No," Deadlock said. He bit the edge of his thumb. Which was true. People who caught his interest barely lived long enough to get to this stage of a relationship. At least he had confirmed one thing: He didn't want to shoot Hot Rod. Deadlock wasn't sure what that left him with. "This is a first."

"Okay," Hot Rod said. He slumped his shoulders and pressed on the gas harder. His fear seemed to have slipped away, but he almost preferred that to this awkwardness between them. Hot Rod glanced down at the bare side where his holster used to hang. "Why'd you have a gun?"

"I live in the lower district of Kaon," Deadlock said, glancing over at Hot Rod.

"Enough said," Hot Rod sighed. He knew that area as the place that he 'should never go under any circumstances' from every relative and friend he had. No wonder Deadlock was crazy, growing up in a place like that. "Living there, it'd be weirder if you didn't have a concealed weapon."

"Something like that," Deadlock said, slumping in his seat. This was too surreal. How did he have such amazing luck with this boy?

Hot Rod licked his lips as the conversation died out again. It was going to be a long drive home.

* * *

"Where is that boy?" Optimus asked himself, staring at his phone. Hot Rod missed the first call, but his second had been sent straight to voice mail. So either his son had turned his phone off after the first call, or he'd been screened.

Neither did a thing for the sense of worry that overwhelmed him.

Optimus clutched at the phone, staring at the screen that read 'Hot Rod' and 'Missed Call.' Was his son in trouble? Did Megatron finally make a move? He hadn't been missing long enough to file an official report, but Optimus was playing with the idea of abusing his power. He could call Springer and have him look around.

"If Hot Rod isn't home in another fifteen minutes, I'm sending out the Wreckers for him, orders or not," Kup snarled to himself on the couch. His arms were crossed and though he was looking at the television he wasn't watching. "And then I'm tanning his hide for making us worry."

"You'll have to get in line, I believe his how the saying goes," Ultra Magnus said. He tapped his finger against his arm in time with the second hand on the clock. "And if he's just out joyriding with Blurr, then I'll be sure to let you have your turn after."

"Let's all calm down," Optimus said. "I for one, would be happy if driving around with his friend and losing tack of the time is all that happened."

"I suppose you're right," Ultra Magnus said. He took a heavy seat on the couch next to Kup. He wiped his face with his hands and sighed. "He's still in trouble."

"Oh, no question there," Optimus said. He clicked open his phone and stared hard at the 'missed call' screen.

* * *

Hot Rod was in so much trouble.

The teenager parked Deadlock's car at the end of the street around the corner. It was within easy walking distance of the house, but his uncle and father wouldn't be able to see Deadlock's ride from here. Hot Rod pulled the keys out of the ignition as the clock blinked 'eight' at him. He held them in his lap and considered his other options to going home. His dad was going to kill him when he got into that house.

"Why'd we stop here?" Deadlock asked. He was slouched into the side of the car, glancing at Hot Rod from the corner of his eye. He'd been pretty quiet since their conversation about his gun, and wasn't looking forward to the inevitable. "Your house is at the end of the street."

Hot Rod should drive all the way up, run inside and tell his dad the crazy in the car kidnapped him and that's why he was late.

Deadlock would be arrested and probably sent to trial and jail. Hot Rod'd be off the hook. Easy.

That's what a sane person would do.

It was the rational thing to do.

Hot Rod twisted one of the keys on the simple chain. He didn't know why, but he wanted to give this man the benefit of the doubt. Deadlock had backed off. It had taken a distraction, but he'd stopped. Hot Rod sucked in a breath. Deadlock was lonely. He was also crazy. But loneliness did that to people. It would be rational to turn Deadlock in and let him face the consequences of his actions.

Hot Rod had never been all that rational.

"Don't ever do that again," Hot Rod said, thrusting the keys into Deadlock's limp hands. Their fingers brushed, and Deadlocks' skin felt like ice. Hot Rod's resolve strengthened, and he sucked in a breath. He caught the man's red eyes and glared. "Ever."

Deadlock slowly sat up straight, his hands curling around the keys. His face opened into innocent confusion, mouth agape and eyes wide. "What?"

"And," Hot Rod continued, swallowing deeply. He needed to do this right. A real test to see if Deadlock was sincere about the whole friend thing, and just confused, or if he was a real threat. Hot Rod gripped the door handle. "If you promise to leave me alone for one week, and I mean that! No stalking, no texts, no nothing! If you can do that for a week, then maybe. Maybe. We can hang out or something at the mall, or shopping or something. How does that sound?"

Deadlock dove forward, bracing himself on the dashboard and Hot Rod's seat. He cornered the teenager, his eyes wild and breath quick. Deadlock asked, "Do you mean that?"

"Yes," Hot Rod said, averting his gaze. Deadlock's body was cool, and it made his own feel a hundred times warmer in the close contact. Hot Rod leaned back into the door, and repeated his terms: "One whole week, though! I so much as catch sight of you, and it's off!"

"Okay," Deadlock said. He nodded and a smile started to spread on his face. Deadlock was getting a second chance. He never got second chances. Deadlock's heart picked up it's pace, and he felt good things coming. Hot Rod was the one. He knew this kid was special. He knew it! Deadlock smiled. "One week. I can do that."

"Alright," Hot Rod said.

The Prime's son shifted in his seat, and after a few more awkward moments of breathing the same air, he pulled open the door. He stepped out of the car, and left Deadlock inside, smiling like crazy. Hot Rod worked his way around the car to the trunk, and tapped on it. Deadlock clicked the trunk release and he retrieved his backpack.

By the time Hot Rod made it to the front of the car, Deadlock had moved into the passenger seat. He leaned on the open window and smiled dumbly at Hot Rod.

"See you in a week," Deadlock said as Hot Rod walked by.

"Yeah, a week," Hot Rod confirmed. "A full week."

He shifted from one foot to the other before giving up and waving shyly. He half skipped a few feet away before sprinting around the corner toward home, leaving Deadlock and his car far behind.

Hot Rod hoped he didn't regret this.


End file.
